Handcuffs?
by BrightAsNight
Summary: Sometimes, you just gotta pay for what you've done. Centon/Slash.


**Handcuffs?**

**Pairing: John Cena/Randy Orton(Bottom)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the plot. **

**Dedication: Corkie41**

Randy Orton was on top of the world. As he strolled down the corridor to his hotel room, he smirked in utter satisfaction. He was the WWE World Heavyweight Champion, he had almost all the power in the company with Hunter clenched in his palm, and he was capable of getting anything he wanted. Money, women, and the authority which oozed off him, making every other co-worker in his locker room his lackeys. Well, almost all of them.

The rejected few didn't matter. Daniel Bryan, he had pushed to the freaks of a team Wyatt Family. CM Punk, whom he had made job to The Shield, claiming that the worthless rookies needed a push. And John Cena... Well, John Cena was his next target. Randy knew that Vince McMahon would never, ever get rid of Cena, but at least Randy could try to push Cena to a dark corner and lock him up there. Cena's time was up. He had been fed like a fat high school kid with money and championship opportunities since day one, and it had irked Randy Orton. Not that he was not treated as nearly as Cena anyway, and not that he was jealous of Cena...

_Oh, no, no, no_.

Randy Orton just didn't want to be the second guy. Not anymore. He took his key card out, sliding it at the panel next to his doorknob, opening it. Suddenly he hissed, falling to the floor holding the back of his head as waves of pain rolled through him, making his head swim and blur his vision. He gasped when someone's large figure loomed over him, and something clinked near his ear.

"Remember this?" Cena! It was John fucking Cena. And... Was that... Was that...? Randy blacked out, giving into the dark spots which appeared in his eyes.

He groaned, turning over only to find that his arms were restrained. His eyes flew open, locking on the pair of handcuffs which were securing his wrists in place against the headboard. And for fuck's sake a piece of cloth was tied around his mouth, knotted at the back of his head, prohibiting him of talking or making a sound. He was lying on his hotel bed naked, he realized. Turning to adjust himself onto his back, Randy looked around the room, his spinning head clearing up and the buzzing in his ears quietening, letting a somewhat deep voice echo around the room.

"I have no idea, sir... Must have gone out to have some...fun," Cena was muttering into the phone. Randy squinted his eyes for a better view, but failed. The room was barely lit with the lamp that was on the nightstand and he could only make out Cena's silhouette. His eyes widened, suddenly realizing that Cena was talking on the phone.

Randy screamed out Hunter's name, hoping that it was him on the phone and he heard him. But the name came out muffled through the cloth, and to Randy's slight horror, it caught Cena's attention. He strolled over to Randy, and backhanded the younger man in ease, silencing him. He took a few steps back, keeping his eyes on Randy intently. "No, sir, it's just... Nikki is waiting for me. Okay, I'll talk to you later... You have a good night too, sir."

Randy narrowed his eyes, glaring heatedly at Cena. How dare the filth touch him, let alone backhand Randy Orton like that?! The man was shirtless, in his shorts and socks, like it was his own hotel room. Why the fuck was he tied to a bed and naked, and Cena was here? Randy tried to curl his legs in a comfortable way against his body to hide his nakedness under Cena's gaze. He didn't have a problem flaunting his body off at the world, but there was something about Cena's darkened eyes, the way his hard posture was hinting and the way that intense stare held Randy's eyes and body in place. Two steps forward and Cena was in front of Randy, slightly leaning down to stop his face inches away from the younger male. His lips curved into a devilish smirk, slowly, as if trying to intimidate and scare Randy off. And he only got a muffled, angry scoff in return.

Chuckling slightly, John sat down on the bed, settling his butt in a comfortable way as he watched Randy squirm in discomfort. He trailed a finger down Randy's thigh, chuckling more when he moved his leg out of his reach. With one swift move he ripped the cloth around Randy's mouth.

"What the fucking fuck do you think you're doing, Cena?" Randy hissed as soon as his mouth was free, aiming a not so successful kick at Cena.

"What does it look like I'm doing, hmm?" John hummed, tilting Randy's face up and running a thumb over his plump bottom lip. Randy blinked, not quite catching what John was meaning until John's hand traveled down to his chest, sliding down his abs towards his crotch.

"Get your filthy hands off me!" He yelled, wriggling to move away from Cena. But the man held a hand down on his abdomen, pressing him down to the bed while Randy tried to figure out how to breathe with having Cena's large paw touching one of his sensitive areas. He gulped again, this time actually scared of Cena's antiques. Was this man for real?! The smirking lips told him so. "No... _No!_" he said through gritted teeth, gluing his legs together when Cena attempted to pry them apart.

His jaws were grabbed and squeezed tightly, a light groan escaping from his lips. "Listen here, bitch," Cena growled getting in Randy's face, giving a scorching glare. "Refusing to do what I say is the last thing you wanna do tonight. You're completely at my mercy, tied to your bed in your room with the fucking handcuffs you used on me to cheat and win the championships." The chilling tone of that voice almost made Randy shiver. Almost, being the keyword.

Then he composed himself, replacing the startled features in his face with a glower. "I didn't cheat, asshole! It was a No Disqualification match, which meant I could use any fucking item I want on you!"

"It was a TLC match, Orton," Cena growled more, tightening his hold on Randy's jaws. His hold did not lessen when Randy winced in pain. "Don't try to play with me. You perfectly knew you could only use the mentioned items only. Where the fuck did the handcuffs come from?!" The hissing silence on the younger man's side only fueled Cena's anger more. "I should beat you to a pulp, dickhead."

"You think you can?" Randy taunted, raising his head slightly to lean forward. "I'd love to see." He gasped when Cena's hand slid down to his throat and squeezed hard, blocking out his wind pipe. He gasped for air, while Cena's hand tightened its hold. A moment later, it was gone and Randy was coughing violently, blinking away the tears that pooled in his eyes. He returned a despising gaze at Cena when he heard humorless chuckles ring through the room. "Fucking bastard," he muttered, averting his gaze as Cena pulled away to undress himself.

Though... He couldn't help glance when John was sliding his shorts down to reveal the engorged cock which slapped against his abdomen. It was huge, purple, and was begging to be touched. "You think you could fool me, Randal?" Cena asked, getting into the bed and between Randy's legs before he noticed as the man's sole attention was focused on Cena's dick. "There isn't another punishment that could be more humiliating than this. Would I let a chance like this go? Me, fucking this ass of yours?" Randy hissed and wriggled when Cena grabbed his ass and kneaded the globes. "Of course not."

"You have no fucking idea how you're gonna regret this, dickhead," Randy glared, trying to keep his face straight when Cena started to rub his groin against Randy's, the blue in his eyes darkening more.

"What are you gonna do? Run to Daddy Hunter and complain? Don't you think he's fed up with you by now?"

"Stop fucking talking about things you don't know, Cena," Randy shouted, ignoring the doubts that invaded his head. He knew Cena was desperately trying to mess with his head, and Randy didn't want to get caught up in Cena's poison.

"I'd give the same advice to you, babe," Cena blew a kiss at Randy, rocking his hips. He let his cock tortuously slowly slide against Randy's, intently watching any change in the man's face. Though he seemed to be hissing in anger, John could see beneath the layers of icy blue orbs, he was enjoying it. Randy was just too stubborn to admit it. He snickered, leaning into Randy's ear and breathing, "You could openly enjoy this too, sweetheart. No need to keep the screams inside. Unless you might want to throw more insults at me, my underwear shoved in your mouth would be unnecessary."

Randy narrowed his eyes to slits, pouring so much hate into his gaze and locked his eyes with Cena, who grinned back at him playfully. He mouthed _fuck you_ at John, and received a _gladly_ back. Scowling, he writhed against John only to realize that his moves were just feuling John's arousal. Torn wondering what to do and how to escape, Randy bit his lip, screwing his eyes shut. A move John mistook.

"You like that huh?" Was breathed into his ear, and an increased pace in Cena's rocking hips. "A dick rubbing off against you? Knew you swung that way... Or else, you're used to it."

Randy seethed, turning his head away because he couldn't stand to look at the older man and unintentionally, exposed his neck. He gasped when Cena's tongue flickered against the hollow of his neck, wriggling towards his collarbone and teeth sunk down, marking him. A yelp slipped out of his lips, and he wriggled. He didn't appreciate bruises like that, where everyone could see what he had done. And no one would guess it was a woman's because of the size of it and how deep it would be in the morning. Cursing out, he grimaced when Cena casted an innocent grin at him feeling his pre cum leaking onto his slowly hardening shaft.

However, the friction that was creating was addictive, and Randy couldn't help letting a tiny sound of pleasure out of his lips. Apparently noticing the mistake he had done, he regretfully scrunched up his face, only for his right cheek to be cupped gently. "You ready?"

His frowned in confusion, his mind trying to wrap around Cena's sudden gentleness until he felt the tips of his fingers probed at Randy's entrance. Gasping, he wildly shook his head struggling to move up the bed to get away from John's fingers. John moved with him, snaking his hands around Randy's waist and pulling him against him, burying his face at the crook of Randy's neck. His hands soothed at Randy's sides as the man writhed violently, hissing desperate protests. John dropped a kiss at the corner of Randy's lips so suddenly, that the man completely froze on the bed,his body stilling and breathing cut off for a short moment. Then he winced, feeling John's fingers crook inside him. When did they go in?

Randy realized that the almost kiss had been a distraction. The scowl that was set on his face was so deep, that Cena doubted it'd ever go away. "Don't you like that?" He asked, crooking his fingers inside Randy searching for that special spot. And he earned a hiss. John rested his forehead against Randy's looking into the furious icy blues in fascination with a crack of a smile. "I can make you feel good."

"In your dreams," Randy grumbled, grimacing when his walls were scissored and stretched by Cena's fat digits. And the continuous jerks of his groin against Randy's didn't stop, and their groins were messes of pre cum. Heat was pooling inside Randy, flowing down his body to his abdomen and tightening it. He screamed in his mind when his body reacted to Cena's touches, and his hips once pushed up to grind and crash against Cena's dripping erection. When John gave a victorius smirk he sneered, forcing his hips back down onto the bed, and directly sat on John's fingers, which shoved themselves into Randy's prostate, hard.

Randy mewled, biting his lip painfully to stop the reactions he was letting out but was unable to stop the shiver that ran up his spine to the nape of his neck making the small hair there stand up. John breathed a laugh, planting another kiss at the corner of Randy's lips, and thrust his fingers deeper into the tight hole. "I don't know how you keep your cute ass this tight even when..." Just like that, the moment was broken. Randy snarled, violently writhing against John, all the hazy thoughts of pleasure disappeared out of his head.

"You fucking-" John's free hand covered his mouth, and the dark glare was back on his face.

"You sure you wanna finish what you were gonna say?" So John could insult him as much as he wanted but he couldn't do that favor back to him? That was fucking bullshit. "You gonna be a good boy?" Those few words were spoken softly. Bipolar much, Cena?

Randy closed his eyes, sighing and tilting his head down, as in defeat. Cena cocked an eyebrow, wondering if he had really given up this easily. "Open your mouth, Randal," he ordered, adjusting himself so his leaking cock was in front of Randy's mouth. Randy vehemently shook his head, giving a disgusted look. "You open your mouth now, or I'm gonna leave you cuffed to the bed after I'm finished." A glare coated Randy's eyes, lips curling down.

"I hate you," he sneered, parting his lips slightly. John just hinted at a crooked smile, forcing Randy's mouth open wider by squeezing his jaw and jammed his cock inside the warm, wet cavern. Randy choked, his mouth filling with cum dripping manhood. The unfamiliar feeling was not comfortable, and he longed to get rid of it as soon as he could. He opened his mouth a bit wider, not wanting to make any contact with the thing in his mouth with his lips. He barely allowed Cena to fuck his mouth like that. Violent thrusts deep down his throat. Cena's musky scent filled his senses, and he barely breathed in during the time. When he finally pulled away, tracing Randy's bottom lip with the saliva covered head of his cock to Randy's utmost distaste, his throat was as sore as a newly made bruise. The bastard nearly ripped his throat tissues apart.

He didn't even have enough strength to cry out when John shoved inside him, stabbing on his prostate. John waited a moment, inspecting Randy's behavior. The toned, tanned body was glistening with sweat, his chest rising up and down quickly due to pants, eyes screwed shut and cuffed hands clenched into fists. John eased inside him, willing himself to hold a little longer at the tight warmth that enveloped him. He leaned forward and grabbed Randy's left thigh, lifting it and pressed it at his side. He heard the younger man force out a no and saw him shake his head, refusing to wrap his legs around him.

John pursed his lips, not saying anything and pulled back almost all the way, before plunging inside Randy again. And then he did it again, and again. Snaking his arms around Randy's waist John lifted his hips off the bed, angling better and slamming inside. Randy whimpered, the increasing pleasure coursing through his body collecting in his abdomen as he absent mindedly pulled back and pushed forth to meet John's thrusts.

"Say again... You don't like it?" John smirked, pausing only to roll his hips and rub on Randy's sensitive nub. He earned a moan, and then,

"No," was barely audible.

"Tell that again, sweetheart?" John chuckled, rolling his hips again. Another small moan filled the room.

"I still...h-hate you, Cena," Randy hissed, his words descending to a low groan.

"That's not what I asked," John mused, stopping his movements and smirking when a whine reached his ears. "Tell me what you want," he growled, leaning into Randy's face and watching emotions conflict in the almost grey eyes. When he got no answer, he jerked his hips forward and before he contacted at the velvety walls he pulled away, his gaze dropping to Randy's parted lips as he hissed. It was pure torture. Having just a brush at his love bundle instead of jamming Cena's cock against it.

"Come on, now... I'll make this easier for you," John's voice echoed in his ears.

"Why the fuck w-would you wa-want to?" Randy stuttered out, his body trembling with growing anticipation. "Bullshit."

"Smart boy," a sunny smile spread across John's lips. "Still, I want to hear you. How you'd sound like if you scream for me-"

"Ne-never!" Randy yelped as a slap connected to his butt. Not a soft one either; one that'd make finger prints on your flesh, red and angry, which sores afterwards.

John's smile disappeared, his eyes narrowing, their usual sparkle lost. A second later he was relentlessly thrusting into Randy's ass, as hard and fast as he could. He could feel by the small breathy noises and by how the soft flesh clenched around his shaft that Randy was close, and the familiar tightening in his balls told him he was also at the edge. Just as Randy was about to cum he curled his fingers around the base of his cock, blocking out the orgasm. A loud protest rang through the room, a curse following it.

Cena's name was whispered, like a beg, but it was cut off before it even started. John looked into arrogant eyes that were begging for a release, but until the man begged out loud, he'd keep fucking his brains out. He could go on all night; he had stamina.

"J-John," came out of Randy's lips, blue orbs roaming around everywhere but occasionally pausing to lock with John's.

"Yes, love?" John noticed the obvious slight irritation on the younger man's face along with the held back bliss.

"Let... Let me..." He swallowed thickly, his throat sore and dry.

"Let you what?" John's sways of his hips became erratic, the sensations flowing through Randy becoming unbearable by the passing second. Toes curling, Randy hesitantly wrapped his legs around John's waist, ignoring the conceited smirk that widened on John's face.

"P-please... I want... I want you," Randy breathed out, his insides clenching tightly with swirling sensations.

"Why didn't you say so?" Grinning, John crashed into Randy's prostate repeatedly, groaning at the tight heat that was sucking around his cock. Wild thrusts were plunged into Randy's smaller body, and whimpers and mewls spilled out of his mouth profusely,as if finally surrendered to John.

Blinding pleasure hit his body, the spasms of Randy's orgasm waving down his body as he came. Randy cried out in pleasure, his legs tightening around John and his toes curling as intense pleasure surged through him. He grimaced when John filled his ass up in his release after a moment.

A kiss was again planted at the corner of his lips, and he stopped himself before he seek out the warmth of John's lips. He wondered if John had truly managed to break him. John pulled away, keeping his eyes on a limp Randal as he cleaned himself up. He pushed every fucking thought that came to his mind out to the back of his head, letting an arrogant grin stretch his lips, which to him also, felt fake.

"That was not so bad, wasn't it?" He cooed, receiving no sound from the younger man. He quickly dressed up, checking the time. "Well, I should go now."

A whisper of his name stopped John. He spun around, to see Randy tugging at the handcuffs. Allowing his grin to stretch wider he mocked a salute at the younger male before slipping into the hallway and closing the door behind him, barely hearing another call out from Randy.


End file.
